Tuesday, 3 March 2015

Slice #3: Ode to the Pencil


The story started,
with a seed,
small and weak.
Growing through,
witnter, spring,
summer, and fall.
The seed grew,
into a bold and,
mightey tree.
It stood strong,
till one day,
it came crashing,
down onto the ground.
And was carried away,
into a well lit room.
Where it got cut up,
into small clinders,
filled with grey,
and coated,
with color.
Placed into a box,
partly togther again.
A few days later,
of being stuck,
in the dark.
Light flies in,
with a figure,
following behind.
Grabbing one,
of the dozen,
and placing the tip,
on a blank area.
The pencil created,
a story with words,
and pictures.
For many days,
it worked hard.
Till one day,
it came crashing,
down into the trash.




4 comments:

  1. If I was the pencil I would be very happy..

    Loved how you phrased it..

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  2. Yep. I love how you phrased it. Great Personification!

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  3. I liked some of the interesting phrases that you used. "The story started, with a seed" was my favorite part. Nice job.
    -Brynn (from Colorado)

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